2014-01-17 - SDR: Southern Discomfort
A heavy booted foot pushes the door to the room open, and Remy steps in, still carrying the form of Rogue in his arms. His eyes flit around his room-- ain't really the cleanest of places, or the most well kept, but it's not as terrible as one might think, either. The bed is a mess--Remy never saw the point of making it, to be honest--and the desk to the side is covered in playing cards, small slivers of metal and bits of wire, some strange looking gadgets and electronics, and a notebook with an almost illegible scrawl lays open on it. A couple of staves lean against one of the corners of the room. There's a dresser, the drawers only mostly shut with bits of clothing sticking out, a half-shut closet with clothes and gear shoved in haphazardly, and a nightstand with an alarmclock blinking 12:00, a lamp, and a couple of packs of cigarettes on it. Gambit kicks the door shut behind him as gently as possible, moving towards the bed and sitting down carefully. "Chere?" he asks tentatively. "Ya ain't mad at me, eh? Cain't realleh handle it if'n ya punched me righ' now. But if ya need ta, den go ahead." He drops a light kiss onto the top of her head, right above the hairline. "No...Ah ain't mad." The words are soft, the voice sounding defeated. Rogue remains in Remy's arms, pressing herself close to him while freeing a hand to wipe away the tear streaks upon her cheeks. "Ah...don't want ya hurt." With the way Rogue sounds, so very unlike her usual bravado, she wouldn't even consider speaking in a stern voice. "Ah...don't want ya mad at me, either. Ah was doin' what Ah did fer you." Oh, Rogue shouldn't have said that. The realization that she just said the same thing her foster mother told her three hours earlier causes her to noticably cringe, the motion rippling through her body. "Aww... chere." Gambit reaches up, brushing away the tears with the back of his hand--fingerless gloves, of course. Ain't no sense in stressing her worse with an accidental touch. "Ain't mad at ya. Ain't no way I'd evah be mad at ya." The gentle touch and those words. That is exactly what Rogue needed. A soft smile touches her lips, as she reaches up with a gloved hand to brush a lock of Remy's hair aside. "Thank ya, luv..." Rogue remains cradled for a few more moments, before she extricates herself from Remy's arms. She doesn't go far at all...just to his side, sitting upon the bed with her head on his shoulder. "Thank ya for puttin' up with me." Remy chuckles, his arm slipping around her at the waist, drawing her closer. "Ain't no trouble," he drawls with a lopsided grin. No matter how Rogue may be feeling, she simply cannot resist that silly grin. She finds herself laughing...the sound of it almost foreign to her own ears, but certainly welcomed. Then, Rogue's forehead furrows as she starts to reflect on what happened in the city. She talks, though at first it seems to herself moreso than to Remy. "Was stupid of me ta go dere on mah own. 'specially all half-cocked like dat." She pauses, then turns, those green eyes of hers locked on Remy's brown eyes. "Guess Ah wasn't thinkin' straight." That is an understatement...and a Rogue trademark. "Ah really wasn't thinkin' straight when Ah saw Momma dere..." Remy's expression sobers. "Yer momma ain't 'zactly someone Ah wanna tangle wid," he comments wryly. "Ya shoulda brought me, chere." He shrugs. "Or Bobby. Or Jeanie. Mebbe she coulda talked sense inta Mags, eh?" He's flippant, but in that tone he uses when he's purposely being flippant as to not to draw attention to bad things. "An' ya ain't gotta think straight always, chere," he tweaks her bottom lightly, expecting that to rile her some. "Sometimes gettin' inta trouble is fun." "She messed me up sumthin' awful, sugah. Real bad." Rogue jumps with a start and a short yelp, almost immediately smacking that stray hand of Remy's. She knows that he's only doing it to get her mind off of dour topics...and she knows that he knows it works. "Ah shoulda brought ya. We could've found sumthin ta do togethah a whole helluva bettah than swimmin' in da river fully clothed...." Gambit grins. "Dat so? Ah can think of a few tings mahself." He winks at her. "Mos' of 'em if ah suggested, though, might get me punched." He grins again. As if that's ever stopped him. Rogue laughs...a good cleansing laugh...and tips a wink. "Most of dem would end up wit' ya knocked out and me earnin' a ghost version of ya bouncin' 'round mah head forevah." She pauses...then leans in, giving him a kiss above the hairline. "may be worth it. definitely be fun..." "Yeah," Remy chuckles, and sighs. "Too bad dat stuff turns out ta be too goo ta be true. Poisin if'n its used too long." He grimaces. "An' ah tried ta get ya ta take it." A scowl crosses his face. He's angry at himself... he could have hurt her. Now it is Rogue's turn to console. She reaches over, taking Remy's chin between two of her gloved fingers and gently pulling him around so they are face to face. "Don't beat yerself up over dat, luv..." She is very close...about as close as she can get without touching. "Ya didn't know it was toxic." She backs up just slightly, her eyes casting downward. "Truth be told, if Ah hadn't just went through dat whole thing with Hope, Ah'd probably would've taken it." Those green eyes flicker back up, as Rogue continues. "Ah...Ah would have taken it. If only so Ah could touch ya without worryin' about what it'll do to ya. Ah only didn't because Ah was finally startin' ta see how Ah can control it. Didn't want nuthin gettin' in da way." Remy smirks, a quirk of the lips that is so typically sardonic and borderline malicious. It's Remy. He can't really help it. "So, what Ah jus' heard was..." and the back of his hand raises, lightly tracing Rogue's cheek and jaw, "...ya cain't resist me." And he winks. "Dat's all righ'. We figure dis out, chere. An' when we do," he shrugs, placing a gentle kiss on her gloved fingertips, "nuthin's gonna get in da way'a any of it. Ya unnerstan'?" Remy is treated to a sly little grin, a soft chuckle, and a slight shaking of Rogue's head as she just knew that he was going to say something along those lines. "Ya just remember, Frenchie, dat just because Ah didn't punch ya now doesn't mean Ah'd nevah punch ya again." She reaches up, tapping the tip of his nose as emphasis. "And Ah hear ya loud an' clear, dahlin'. We be doin' dis togethah..." Gambit swallows. Then he smirks again, leaning back on the bed. "A' course," he replies. A dozen replies and followups to that run through his head, most of them cruel or scathing enough to earn a punch or a backhand several times over. It's not that he wants to hurt her. 'Cept... he needs to push her away, because if he doesn't right now, he's going to risk sayin' something he really doesn't want to deal with the implications of. "Ah'm sure Ah could 'borrah' a vial of it from Hank's lab," he says idly. "If'n ya evah change ya mind." The smile quickly fades from Rogue's face, replaced with a dark scowl that Remy knows only too well. "Ah...Ah can't believe ya just said dat. Aftah everythin' Ah just said...aftah...aftah charging inta a shitstorm just so Ah can make sure ya wouldn't get poisoned by dat crap evah again..." She isn't yelling at all. She has yelled at Remy countless times before. No, this is more a cool, cold tone, as if she is channeling a bit more of her foster mother than Rogue intended. And, somehow, the cool tone is worse that if Rogue was yelling. She stands up, her fists clenching. "Yer...just like Momma. Sayin' ya tryin' ta help me, but only doin' things fer yerself." She so wants to hit Remy...but she doesn't. Perhaps she is still recovering from her emotional rollercoaster...or, more likely, she just can't bear to hurt Remy. Not tonight, anyways. Rogue turns, and walks out the door, without giving Remy a second look. The door slams as she exits, leaving Remy in silence.